


The List

by Ygern



Series: A DISQUISITION OF DOMESTICITY [4]
Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-04 05:10:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16340417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ygern/pseuds/Ygern
Summary: Lewis has a to-do list, James smiles a lot.





	1. Chapter 1

Robbie’s to-do list looked like this: 

_Buy house,_  
_Marry James,_  
_Speak to Laura,_  
_Tell Lyn and Mark_  
_(but not in this order)._

House-hunting 3.0 was proving to be different from the previous attempts Hathaway mused as he negotiated Oxford lunch-time traffic. For one, he supposed, this time he actually wanted to find a place for _himself_ , (or to be more precise: Robbie _and_ himself) although he still found it difficult to keep his need to make silly smart-arse comments in check. First time around Lewis had all but encouraged it, apparently both of them had been determined to sabotage the search. This time Lewis was trying to pretend that house-hunting was no place for a running commentary on the failings of previous occupants to approach anything like tasteful decor, but was largely failing to impress this upon James. 

Hathaway’s second problem, and there was no denying it: James’s own sergeant had been sending enough grins and comments his way just to underline the point in case he tried to pretend otherwise – he was in such a good mood that he was incapable of preventing himself from beaming at the world at large. He smiled at co-workers whom he’d previously barely glanced at. Sgt. Lizzie Knox had more-or-less guessed what was up with her guv, but he knew she could be relied on to say nothing and keep it to herself. It wasn’t that it was a secret that needed to be kept highly confidential. It was just that in his late thirties Hathaway, a man who assumed he would live a life of solitude and secret loneliness, had found himself giddily in love. He’d been quietly in love for years, but it was an un-communicated and suppressed love, certain as he was that his affections could never be returned. He’d been wrong and now the decade-long habit of repressing his feelings and carefully filtering his speech around his best friend had been made redundant. Being this horribly in love, as Shakespeare had put it, meant that he required a moment before he got out of his car to ground himself and pull his head back to the task at hand. At this rate they were likely to buy something utterly unsuitable at a price that was utterly indefensible because Hathaway currently had the self-control of a puppy faced with a sea of cushions. He took a deep breath, put on his best blank face and got out.

Lewis was already waiting, having arrived in his own car, and smiled at Hathaway’s approach. “James,” he said, “this is Mr Lynes; Mr Lynes, me partner James”.

“Please, call me Max,” their new (and Lewis’s third) estate agent said eyeing them with surreptitious curiosity and bestowing on them the obligatory smile of all good estate agents everywhere. The looks that Hathaway and Lewis received these days had taken some getting used to at first. Lewis was sure that it was less that they were two men (this was Oxford after all) than that there was a notable difference in age between them. Hathaway shrugged and said that it didn’t really matter what people were looking at, “the only people who get to have an opinion on this are you and me.”

That was pretty much how things were being negotiated between them. For the most part neither of them was much into public displays of affection, perhaps a product of years of walking abreast of each other without any touching; or perhaps it was simply a need to be private. Nevertheless, nowadays Lewis would sometimes put his hand on James’s back as they walked and sometimes Hathaway would barely touch Robbie’s hand when they stood together talking. They were tiny little gestures of intimacy, hardly there; and yet it instantly marked them as a couple if anyone noticed.

Even were it not for the obvious giveaway clue that they were buying a house together, Mr Lynes had definitely noticed, but if Lewis was any judge then Mr Lynes was gay himself, just a mite flamboyant – if that meant anything these days. Lynes was watching Hathaway intently, which Lewis supposed was natural enough, being as James was tall, elegant and always pristinely dressed and as a result tended to stand out from the crowd. Lewis felt the tiniest _frisson_ of possessiveness, not that Hathaway was going to be remotely interested in anyone else nor that he wasn’t well able to refuse unwanted advances himself. The realisation of what he had just felt startled Lewis, it had to have been well over three decades since he last felt the need to posture at a rival, real or imaginary. He conjectured that senility may have finally set in just as Hathaway gave Lewis his little private smile and touched his arm. Lewis felt himself relax immediately and caged his inner caveman. 

“Ah, good to meet you, Mr Hathaway. I rather think that you might like this place. Mr Lewis said you would appreciate a decent-sized kitchen. Let’s take a look.”

James was a little awkward going through the house, constantly checking Lewis with a glance to see what he was thinking about the big-enough shower and the too-cosy second bedroom and the very-lavender snug (Lewis scowled at the room and implied it was built by people who had no idea what a snug was). If Mr Lynes was disconcerted by the silent conversation going on between his companions, he appeared not to show it, but did eventually say he would wait outside for them to take a look by themselves.

“Well?” said Lewis.

“Kitchen’s alright, but there’s no garden. You wanted a back yard. For growing of carrots and parsnips and letting me help you dig trenches by getting me to do all the digging on the aforementioned trenches and so-on. Sir.” James was doing that thing with the secretive teasing smile again and Lewis found himself falling for it, which meant that by the time they joined Mr Lynes at the front door both of them had smirks on their faces. 

The second place they both liked, except for the main bathroom which James decreed was nice in a hideous kind of a way; but conceded that it could be repainted and re-tiled, or gutted and set fire to. Then he was needed back at work and left Robbie (with a brief kiss to his lips and a very quiet “sir”) to inspect the third place of the afternoon by himself.

Max Lynes watched Hathaway drive away with a sad smile on his face. “You’ve got yourself a good one there, Mr Lewis, if you don’t mind my saying. Such a sweet boy. Really loves you.”

Lewis thawed, earlier fit of jealousy forgotten, and said “Yes”.

“Does he always call you sir?”

Lewis started and then realised what their earlier fooling around must have sounded like. “Eh, no. That’s a joke. We used to work together. When I get ‘sir’d’ like that he’s taking the piss.”

“I apologise if I’m being overly familiar. It’s just, he reminded me of my Freddie. It was long ago though”.

“Freddie? Was he your - partner?” Lewis wasn’t sure what the right word would be.

“Just my boyfriend. Was back in the Eighties. There was no such thing as civil partnerships or marriage equality back then. Then my beautiful boy went and got himself AIDS. Poor boy died a year later. I never could bring myself to love someone again.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” said Lewis. AIDS had been a death sentence back then and society had been callous and cruel in its panic to understand how to prevent the killer virus from spreading. “Really, I – well – I lost my wife some years ago, it’s not the same, but I understand a little of what it feels like to lose the one you love.”

“And then you found love again.”

“Yes,” said Lewis. “This kind of blind-sided me, I never saw it coming and he was right there in front of me face all the while.”

“It makes me glad to see couples like you now. Freddie would have loved how things are now. Getting married, being Out even when you have a respectable job. Having friends and family who just treat you like a normal person. Anyway, your James reminded me of him. Such a beautiful smile.”

Lewis felt his throat tighten around a lump.

***

“The third house was good. It had a cat. You should come and see it with me again.”

“Houses don’t come with cats.”

“I’ll bet you two Sunday brunches this one comes with a cat.”

“Was it starving?”

“The cat? No.”

“Well then it doesn’t come with the house. In any case, since when was ‘comes with stray cat’ supposed to be a selling point for a house? Was that a feature we particularly wanted?”

“Just come and see the damn house.”

Lewis kissed Hathaway and backed him into the kitchen wall. Of all the people (okay, women) he had imagined backing into walls in the last decade of his life, this was the one person who had never featured in his fantasies. But here it was now: Robbie Lewis had James Hathaway smashed up against a wall while they stared into each others eyes and smiled secret smiles at each other and ignored how both of them should have abandoned this sort of behaviour decades ago (lots of decades ago). Lewis had a hand wrapped around the back of Hathaway’s neck and the other one cupping the back of his skull. James was smiling dopily at him, like a teenager in love. This shouldn’t be happening, not at Lewis’s age – not in the life of a man who has retired and should be done with the romantic bits of life.

“’Kay” said Hathaway, sounding almost entirely unlike a man with a degree from Cambridge and a slightly scandalous history in a seminary.

Lewis did the only thing that could be expected of a man in this position and kissed Hathaway until they were both reduced to utter incoherence.

And so Robbie found he could cross the first item off his list.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lewis works his way further down his list.

Before anything else was going to happen, Lewis was going to have to talk to three people. It was going to have to be his job because there was no way that any of this could fall to James.

Lewis and James had signed the paperwork for their new house at Mr Lyons’s office. Lyons had beamed at them beatifically and James had slipped Lewis a tiny smile of joy. There was nothing for it any more. Boxes were being packed, the removers were booked. There was not much more chance for plausible deniability. Words were going to have to be had with certain people.

“I could go with you,” said James

“No lad, this one’s for me. There’ll be time enough for that later,” said Lewis.

James looked him knowingly.

“I mean it Robbie. We’re in this together. I can go with you.”

“I know you would, but I think this is best coming from me, under the circumstances.”

“Okay,” said Hathaway, and touched the back of his knuckles against Lewis’s hand as a gesture of solidarity.

 

Robbie wasn’t sure where the best place to talk to Laura would be. Certainly not over the body of someone, even though it seemed that most of their seminal conversations over the years had happened somewhere in the vicinity of a corpse. It also didn’t seem appropriate to invite her somewhere and have this talk in front of other people. In the end he bought an extremely expensive bottle of Irish whiskey with a price tag that made his eyes water and went over to her house on Sunday morning when James had gone to Mass.

“Ah, Robbie, social call?” Laura said taking the bottle with a mystified air at being handed hard liquor so early in the day.

“Not exactly,” said Robbie.

“So my theory about you and James, not so theoretical any more?”

“Wha – how d’you know?”

“Well, my observational skills remain intact,” she led him into the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea. “First, you turn up here looking terrified on a perfectly lovely Sunday morning, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look terrified of anything before. Second, your James couldn’t hide his smile down a mine-shaft in a forest at midnight these days.”

“You ran into him then?”

“Not exactly, I saw him with his sergeant at the Victoria Arms the other day, carrying on the Morse tradition of doing some euphemism thinking and suchlike. They were thick as thieves so they didn’t see me, but even from my vantage point I could see Hathaway was grinning like a loon. Given that James is my friend too and I know who he socialises with, there was only a small pool of candidates that could have been responsible for the aforementioned smile. Lizzie Knox is happily married and the boys in the band are not _that_ good friends, so that pretty much boils down to Robbie Lewis finally coming clean.”

Lewis sagged. Laura patted his hand.  
“It’s okay, Robbie. I’m glad for you, even if you did manage to go about the whole thing arse-wise. Also, I appreciate this extremely expensive bottle of Jameson that goes along with it.”

She put a cup of tea in front of him, milk and sugar as he liked it.

“So the real question is, have you picked out your wedding dress yet?”

Lewis grunted and rolled his eyes at her. Laura grinned.

“And I expect to be invited, of course,” her smile softened and she took his hand in hers, “and of course, if there is going to be any stupid talk about you and me and our past, then I think that my being there should kick any of that sort of rot in the teeth.”

‘Speak to Laura’ could be crossed out.

‘Tell the kids’ was going to be harder in a whole different way. It was one thing telling your ex, especially when she had already guessed and had been expecting this any day. It was another thing telling your children, grown up adults though they may be, that their dad had met someone and that someone happened to be male. And then there was the whole age thing. Robbie wasn’t the sort of man who could easily be intimidated, he never backed down and he never gave up. But this was a conversation he didn’t know how to start.

So he began by going up to Manchester for a long weekend visit with Lyn. His daughter was thrilled to have him and he was hugged and kissed and bundled in front of a table with a steaming teapot and cakes within minutes of his arrival. His grandson came running with a truck for his inspection and Robbie let himself be swept up into the arms of his happy extended family for a while, still searching for the right words.

“So Dad, still searching for a new place? You’ve been staying with your old sarge for ages now.”

“Not exactly,” said Robbie. “I mean, no, not searching for a new place any more. We’ve found one, and the paperwork’s all done.”

“ _We_ found one?” Lyn hadn’t been a copper’s daughter for nothing.

“I thought you’d spot that,” Robbie took a sip of tea that had gone cold and grimaced. “Ugh. Wouldn’t mind a whiskey right about now.”

“Dad? What’s going on? Who’s ‘we’?” said Lyn.

“Me and James. We found a new place. Together.”

“Oh my God! Like together-together? Dad! Since when has this all happened? Since when do you even like men?” Lyn looked dumbstruck.

Robbie looked at her helplessly.

“Oh lass, I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t know I even could like men, I mean, not in that way. It’s just James. He’s been my friend for years, best friend really. And then suddenly I realised that he meant more to me than just a best friend.”

“So you’re moving in together?”

“We’re getting married,” Lewis braced himself.

His daughter was studying him now. Thinking. Then she got up and disappeared into the lounge and reappeared with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two shot glasses in the other and placed them rather shakily on the table. Then she crouched down by her father and put her arms around his middle. 

“Okay, Dad. You know I only ever wanted you to be happy. You were sad for such a long time after Mum,” Lewis could hear her voice shaking and looked down to see tears in her eyes.

“Oh lass,” he whispered brushing her hair back from her forehead.

“Don’t mind me,” she said, “it’s just a bit of a shock. A surprise, I mean. Not a bad thing, just getting used to the idea of me Da being gay. Or is it bi? Or what?”

“Don’t even know meself, lass, and that’s being honest. James says there’s no need to put a label on it. Not one for labels is our James,” Lewis replied.

“And are you certain this is what you want?” Lyn asked sounding tentative.

“Aye, it is. He makes me happy. I know that now, even if it took a trip to the other side of the world for me to cop that on.”

“Other side of the – oh my God. Does Laura know? Is that why you broke up?” Lyn poured them both shots rather jerkily.

Lewis slugged his gratefully. “In fact, Laura was the one who pointed it out in the first place.”

“Oh Lord, that must have been weird,” said Lyn

“Weird doesn’t even begin to cover it,” said Lewis. “But that conversation seems like a lifetime ago now, and we’re still friends. She’s forgiven me for being an idiot.”

“Oh God,” Lynn threw back the shot glass and poured herself another.

“Oy,” Lewis protested feebly, “watch yourself, it’s eleven in the morning, lass”.

Lyn gave him The Look, the one she inherited off her mam, the one that said that he was now treading on the battlefield of an argument he could not win.

“It’s not every day your Da comes home with a new husband,” she said archly and gestured towards Lewis’s glass and the bottle of whiskey. “Anyway, so tell me about James. I mean, the only thing I know is that he was the one who found that man, you know, who -”

“Yeah,” said Lewis. “Well, he’s a smart-arse, been to Cambridge, reads Ancient Greek, spent a year in a Catholic seminary -”

“He was going to be a priest? He’s religious?” Lyn exclaimed. “Dad, you’re an atheist. How on earth does that work?”

“I leave him alone, he leaves me alone. I’ve no interest in trying to take his faith away, even if I do think he’s wrong. In return, he doesn’t try to convert me. In reality, he occasionally disappears off to Mass for an hour or so. That’s about the long and the short of it.”

“Hmm,” said Lyn.

“Anyways, to get back to James, he plays the guitar, reads loads of books, has the _Encyclopedia Britannica_ stored in his brain, is an excellent copper. Um, he’s kind and funny.” Lewis tailed off.

“D’you have any pictures of him, then” asked Lyn.

Did he? Lewis wasn’t sure. Neither he nor Hathaway were natural inhabiters of the selfie-generation. Then he remembered that Lizzie Maddox had taken one of her and James together and Hathaway had sent it on to Lewis’s email address while he was in New Zealand. “Wait, I think I do.” His daughter stared at him in disbelief. 

“Seriously, Dad. Take some photos of your boyfriend. A girl’s got a right to know who her Da is marrying.”

Lewis found the picture in question and handed over his phone to Lyn. She stared at it intently, studying every detail minutely. 

“That’s his sergeant Lizzie with him.”

“He’s so young,” said Lyn sounding truly surprised. “You didn’t say he was so young.”

“Aye, he’s younger than me, a lot younger. Don’t think we haven’t spoken about it.”

“And?”

“When I said he’d wake up one day and I’d be an old man needing looking after, he got angry. When he calmed down he said, if that day came he would want it to be him looking after me. He would want to be the one, that it should be someone that loved me.”

Lyn sniffed audibly and when Lewis looked at her she had tears in her eyes again. “I think I’m going to need to meet this James of yours.”

When she did come down the following weekend for a lightning-quick visit, to camp out among the filling boxes and emptying shelves with them; she waited with Robbie for James’s evening return home from work and rushed out to hug him as soon as he pulled up outside.

“Welcome to the Lewis family,” she said. James turned pink with pleasure. “Wow, Dad. He is so out of your league. How did you ever manage to land him?”

“Oy, watch it, madam,” Lewis said, “I’m still your dad, you know.

Lewis had no idea how to tell Mark. The only contact he had for him was an old Yahoo email address. The last Lyn had heard was that he was moving from Australia on to Thailand as an English language teacher of sorts. Since then there had been almost complete silence except for a postcard last Christmas and a birthday card four months ago. He had no choice but to send an email into the void saying that he was getting married again to James Hathaway, and that he sent his love.  
‘Tell Mark and Lyn’ could be crossed off the list.

Lewis returned to the kitchen where James and Lyn were putting the final touches onto a pot of beef chilli and a chocolate ice-cream cheesecake and was greeted with smiles of love from both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chocolate ice cream cheesecake is real, although Lyn would have needed to start it many hours ago to have it ready for supper.
> 
> https://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/chocolate-hazelnut-ice-cream-cheesecake


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing that wasn't on the list.

Now that there was only one thing left on Robbie’s list he realised that he had left something out, which was moving into the new house. He only barely remembered the fuss and bother involved in buying a house from the first time round with Val, they’d both been young and unaware of the hassles looming. Fixing up things that the mortgage didn’t cover stretched their already limited budget to the brink. They’d had their first major row because of it. It had been worth it in the end of course, but the remembered stress of it all made Lewis brace for more of the same when he and Hathaway had signed off on their new property. 

But the stress never seemed to materialise. Hathaway had been moving boxes as they ran out of space packing up his flat; and on moving day Lewis was in charge of the directing furniture in the new place while James stayed behind and sorted out the flotsam and jetsam and other debris once the movers had finished tramping through the old place. By midday the major moving was done and Lewis was coordinating the delivery of boxes of his old stuff that had been in storage for years, all destined for the room that Hathaway had ordained to be Lewis’s ‘study’, not that Robbie intended to do any studying in it. But even he could see the point in both of them having their own space for stashing stuff that may or may not belong anywhere else in their new shared life. He intended to spend some weeks with a shredder and a bin and go through the old stuff and see what could be chucked out. They were old memories, and some of them would be worth keeping – photos of the kids and the like. But the rest of it – Lewis had been living without it for more than a decade and now he was wondering whether there was any point in keeping something that he clearly didn’t need.

By two in the afternoon Hathaway turned up trailing a vacuum cleaner and looking disheveled and grimy. He gave Robbie a grin and heaved a cooler box into the kitchen where the new fridge was ready to receive its first offerings, all leftovers from the previous place: a carton of eggs, a pint of milk, two onions, a pack of butter and a six-pack of beer. The rest of their food supplies comprised of a carton of tea, James’s favourite coffee beans, a loaf of bread, and a half-eaten packet of McVities Digestives.

“I’ll shop tomorrow,” said James, “tonight we’re having tuna casserole. Lizzie said she would drop one over this evening.”

“Bless her,” said Lewis. “Saves us having to order in.”

And that really was all there was to it. By nightfall much of the chaos had been subdued and partitioned into relevant rooms, books were being shelved and Lizzie had thoughtfully added two pint cartons of Malteser ice cream to her offering when she brought it over in time for dinner and then beat a hasty retreat before she could be coaxed into looking at books with Hathaway. Lewis ate his entire pint of ice cream while James got the Monster Espresso Machine up and running, and then stole half of Hathaway’s pint while James watched him from under heavy eyelids with an enigmatic smile on his face. There was no fight, no tension, just a sense of bone-weary exhaustion.

“You go shower first, I’ll tidy up in here,” said James.

Too tired to protest, Robbie dropped a kiss to James’s forehead and stood under pounding hot water trying to soothe his protesting muscles. When he emerged James ambled in and said “Rub your back for you?” Robbie gave him a smile of gratitude and fell asleep while his body was being soothed with oil by James’s careful hands. He was dimly aware of Hathaway joining him in bed later smelling of his herbal shampoo but drifted back off again the moment James curled up next to him.

Robbie woke to Hathaway’s face a few inches from his, green-grey eyes studying him intently. For a fleeting second Lewis wondered if this would be the moment that James realised he was in bed with an old man. Instead, James’s face brightened into a smile of dopey sappiness in an instant and he leaned forward to press kisses to Lewis’s brow and cheekbone and mouth.

“So, are eggs and toast alright for breakfast? Otherwise I’ll make a dash to the shops for something.”

“Sounds good to me. Soft-boiled, please,” said Lewis with the smug tone of one who knows he is being spoiled.

“Eggs-and-soldiers coming up then,” James pressed another firmer and more lingering kiss to his mouth, slid out of bed and loped off to the kitchen.

Lewis lay still for another few minutes, contemplating the stiffness in his spine from apparently falling asleep on his stomach in the middle of a massage. There was a slight weight on the small of his back, and when he reached to investigate he found a still-warm wrapped hot-water-bottle evidently placed there by James to combat the effects of the exertions of the previous day. He lay basking in the glow of having somehow become a treasured, pampered and adored man in his old age; until his bladder, threatening to explode, forced him to heave his carcass out of bed.

When Lewis padded into the kitchen James looked up from the bread toasting on the grill and said, “D’you know this house comes with a cat?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you,” said Lewis spotting a furry white head guzzling from a pan on the floor “Are you feeding it Lizzie’s left-over tuna casserole? I wouldn’t mention that to your sergeant if I were you, word to the wise an’ all that.”

“Well, I couldn’t very well feed him toast,” Hathaway responded with equanimity.

“Has it occurred that you don’t need to feed him at all?” said Lewis.

James gave him a look of horrified disbelief.

“Don’t listen to the mean man,” he said to the cat. “Forgive him for he knows not what he says”.

Lewis sat down at the kitchen table and was shortly served toast and coffee and two soft-boiled eggs and an egg-cup with a kiss that became two kisses and then a long snog.

There were two further discoveries for that day: first, when Hathaway departed to restock their kitchen cupboards, Lewis discovered a series of framed photographs in his study of himself in his younger years with Val and the kids at various stages of their lives together with a note from Lyn.

_Dear Dad,_  
_James promised that he would make sure you found these, he wanted you to have them in your new home._  
_All my love,_  
_Lyn_

Lewis’s vision blurred with tears at these mementos, some of his happiest memories made manifest again.

The second discovery came on helping Hathaway unpack his morning’s purchases. Along with essentials and the usual incumbents of the kitchen cupboard was a small stash of fancy pots of cat food, a cat basket complete with blankets and a packet of something that looked like wood shavings but smelled strongly of fish. By the time Lewis had consulted Google to ascertain what Bonito Flakes were, a cat had taken up residence in the cat basket and was snoring slightly.

James gave him a sunny smile as he went through to his study (that really would be a study) to unpack his books.


	4. Chapter 4

They were now firmly at the last item on Lewis’s list; but Robbie found himself pondering two points.

Robbie had no truck with priests and religious ceremonies, but for the sake of James he would have agreed to a church ceremony; it meant everything to James and nothing to him, so Robbie figured that he lost nothing and gained everything by honouring James’s choice. But there was no getting around the fact that no Catholic priest was going to be marrying two men any time soon, no matter the pretty and conciliatory words that were occasionally uttered by the current Pope in Rome. But a Church of England ceremony was apparently not an acceptable substitute. 

“I’m not going to pretend that my church doesn’t reject us by trying to fool myself with a close facsimile,” was all James had to say on the matter when Robbie asked.

Robbie could tell that Hathaway was somewhat subdued by this, and had retreated a little from his usual cocky and confident self, at least in matters regarding marriage. He caught James listlessly thumbing through a brochure on civil partnerships one evening and thought he should make his point: 

“When I proposed, I wasn’t talking about civil partnerships; I was talking about marrying you. We may have to do it in a registry office, but I intend to marry you properly all the same.”

James gave him a little smile and then curled himself into Robbie's side.

“Ah lad, you’re the most important thing in the world to me. We’re going to do this as right as we can.”

James sighed into Robbie’s neck and then kissed him and snuggled back down beside him. And that was the other thing on Robbie’s mind. He’d asked James to go slow with him, with the physical side of their relationship. He’d never had anything other than heterosexual encounters with women in his life. He’d assumed that James would have all the experience with men here and would help Robbie with new things. Now Robbie was beginning to think that he had misjudged the situation somewhat. James was not a virgin, and he was an enthusiastic participant in anything they did, but Robbie couldn’t but notice that he himself initiated most of their explorations in physical intimacy. James rarely did. He was beginning to realise that his marriage to Val made himself the one with experience. Apparently the sex life of an ordinary middle-aged married couple trumped the sex life of a slightly oddball single young man, virtuoso guitar and clever tongue notwithstanding. So surreptitious research on Google was providing Robbie with an education and occasionally with slight trauma.

It was during one of these research sessions in his study-that-wasn’t that Robbie became aware of a presence behind him, and when he removed his headphones, the amused clipped tones of James said, “You do understand that’s almost certainly impossible without sky-hooks and has a high probability of causing back injury.”

Robbie rolled his eyes and gave Hathaway a sheepish grin.

“I’ll put it on the ‘Maybe’ list then.”

“Oh har har, very funny. What’s all this about anyway, Robbie? You’ve never struck me as an aficionado of,” he bent closer to the monitor to read it, “Slutty Twinks dot com”.

“It’s for you, isn’t it,” said Lewis.

Hathaway’s eyes widened in horror.

“No,” Lewis hurriedly amended, “not like that. I only meant, well, I wanted to make sure I knew how to make you happy, um, in the bedroom department. So to speak.”

James grinned at him and pulled Robbie up from his chair.

“You do make me happy in the bedroom department, so to speak.” James was doing that thing again where Robbie’s face was slowly and carefully covered in gentle kisses.

“It’s just,” Lewis spoke, “it’s just that if I’m doing something for the first time I don’t want you to ever feel that if I hesitate it’s because I don’t want to be there with you or I’m reconsidering my choices.”

“I don’t think that.”

“And I don’t want you to get bored because I don’t know how to do things to keep you, you know...” Lewis trailed off.

“I’m not going to get bored. I don’t have any expectations that you’re going to fall short of.”

James slid around behind Robbie and pulled him back against his chest.

“You’re my everything, you know, Robbie. This is my everything.”

Lewis relaxed back into the hug, but apparently Hathaway was not finished.

“And if there are any things on Slutty Twinks dot com that you particularly want to try, then we can always negotiate. I draw the line at ball-gags though, fair warning.”

“Oh give over,” Lewis groaned.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this week I discovered a whole new experience: pinched nerve. 1/10. Do not recommend. Avoid if possible.  
> Anyway, on with the story, This week can only get better.

Waking up, always a hated moment in Robbie’s long life as a copper whose sleep had been interrupted too many times by ill-timed call-outs; was rapidly becoming a part of the day he treasured. For one thing it had revealed a new secret about James. He had once thought of Hathaway as aloof and reserved, a man who remained formal and stiff even with people he liked. He remembered James once bowing to a botanist who had taken a shine to him, and whom James had almost certainly rather liked in return. It had taken all of Robbie’s self-control not to laugh at Hathaway’s discomfiture and awkwardness that had resulted in James’s bowing like a courtier of yore to the young woman. The lass, bless her, had curtseyed in return, half in amusement and half in sympathy. Robbie had thought she was rather nice, but in the end she had fallen short of James’s exacting standards. Anyway, it turned out that public Hathaway was different to private Hathaway. The heavy-eyed, somnolent version of Hathaway who woke up in Robbie’s bed every morning was a cuddler.

On days when James was woken up by a call-out he would burrow into Robbie for a few seconds before rolling out of bed as if trying to draw strength from their shared heat. On mornings when the alarm clock woke them, James would hit the snooze button and curl himself around Robbie, nosing at his neck and cheek. Robbie would lie cocooned in strong arms and allow himself to float in a sea of soft, sleepy kisses to his temple and jaw until the second alarm sounded and Hathaway would groan in protest, press a final, regretful kiss to Robbie’s face and clamber out of bed. This had become a morning ritual that Robbie treasured, and he reckoned that if they had already created their own ritual then marriage was overdue. So when Hathaway joined him in the kitchen all scrubbed and polished for the day ahead, Lewis said, “I think I’ll ring and try and get a date at the Registry office if you like.”

James’s head whipped up at that and he nodded.

“And we’ll take our friends for a slap-up dinner after that,” Lewis added.

“We should invite Innocent,” James said with a grin.

Robbie rolled his eyes at that and accepted Hathaway’s series of delighted kisses before he headed out for the day.

Lewis was sure of one thing: he didn’t really want to be within hearing distance of Innocent receiving word that Boy Wonder was marrying his old Inspector. He’d been on the receiving end of enough banter lately with his daughter teasing him about having somehow landed a supermodel in his old age; and Laura, well, all Laura had to do was smile at him for Robbie to flinch.

He’d secured a date, made a preliminary list of guests for the after-party, and obtained promises from Laura and Lyn that they would act as witnesses, by the time Moody rang and asked him to head up a new investigation. Dead body at the warehouse. Robbie noticed there were two missed calls from an unknown number on his phone.

When Hathaway ran into Laura the following day she gave him a grin and a hug, “Finally making an honest man out of him, eh?”

“I’ll do my best,” he returned solemnly. Things had felt a little bit strange between him and Laura initially after Robbie had first admitted his feelings. James had felt intensely aware that his new happiness had been built on her disappointment, even though she had never said anything. He’d been awkward facing her in the cold light of the morning when he could still feel the warmth of Robbie’s arms around him, the ghosts of kisses still tingling his lips. Laura for her part had only smiled at him with genuine fondness, and if anything, once Robbie had broken the news, her grins had only widened and gentle teasing had been added to their general banter.

“I’ll be standing up with you,” she added.

James looked at her quizzically. 

“Lyn will be Robbie’s witness, I’m yours,” she explained.

“Thank you,” he replied giving her a grateful smile.

 

The day before the ceremony Hathaway insisted they attend the local Farmer’s Market so a bemused Lewis found himself browsing stands of artisan goat’s cheese in rosemary and honey and such like while James selected delicacies that Lewis had never in his life considered to be food suitable for actual eating. It was a rarity in itself the two of them shopping together. Exhausting jobs and demanding work schedules meant that whoever had time to spare was the person who went grocery shopping, wielding the jointly prepared shopping list that hung on the fridge door accumulating needs and wants until the expedition commenced. Neither of them felt the need to hold hands in the breakfast cereals aisle, so today’s experience was a unique one. Hathaway alternated between slinging his arm around Lewis’s shoulder and wandering off by himself; and it was in one of the latter moments when Robbie found himself staring at his about-to-be-husband, for once out of his suits and attired in more casual garb that looked like he’d stepped off the cover of _Vogue Hommes Magazine_. The low altitude of the morning sun saturated James in gold for a moment and Lewis nearly gasped at the hallowed figure. Then it was just James again, James who had writhed and struggled and sobbed in bed this morning under Robbie’s ministrations.

“What?” said James coming over and tucking his hand into Robbie’s.

Lewis gave him a wry smile.

“Lyn was right. She said I was marrying a supermodel and she was only teasing but – she’s right.”

James gave him a look that suggested he’d lost his mind and then he chuckled and cupped Robbie’s cheek and kissed him tenderly on the mouth and said, “It’s only me.”

“There’s nothing ‘only’ about you, lad” said Lewis. “Nevertheless, I’ll have you.”

“You already do,” James answered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last 24 hours before our OTP finally get hitched.

“Oh look, you’ve got a cat!” Lyn exclaimed when she dropped by in the afternoon on her way to her hotel. (She had said there was no way in hell she was staying one thin bedroom wall away from a couple on their wedding night, thank you very much.)

“We do not have a cat,” said Lewis giving up on his third attempt to read the newspaper. “What we have is a cupboard full of expensive cat food and a cat basket. The neighbourhood, however, _does_ have a cat that knows an easy mark when it sees one.”

The cat in question yawned and wriggled into a better position in its basket.

“I see you’ve met Six Dinner Sid,” said Hathaway joining them in the kitchen.

“Oh, like the book?” said Lyn.

“Exactly,” said Hathaway with a grin.

Lewis rolled his eyes.

“Everything ready for tomorrow?” Lyn asked.

Hathaway nodded. “Yep. There isn’t much to organise anyway, mercifully.”

“I still can’t believe you two aren’t going off on your honeymoon afterwards.”

“Can’t. We’re both in the middle of cases. We only took a couple of days so we could get married,” said Lewis.

“We’ve got holidays booked, don’t worry,” said James. “We’re going to Spain.”

“We’re going to start at the _Santiago de Compostela_ Cathedral, because James missed that the last time he was over,” Lyn noticed a look passing between her father and Hathaway at that, clearly there was a story there that she wasn’t aware of, “then we’re going on to Madrid, Barcelona and San Sebastian.”

“Nice,” said Lyn, “so Tim wants to take us all out to dinner tonight if you’re up for it, otherwise, I’ll meet you guys at the Registry Office tomorrow morning at 10ish?”

“Dinner would be lovely, thanks,” said Hathaway.

“You guys are just showing up together tomorrow? What about the whole not seeing the bride, erm, groom thing?”

Her father rolled his eyes at her. “Don’t be daft, lass.”

“In any case,” said Hathaway, “the intention behind that tradition was to ensure the virginity of the woman up to the moment of marriage, as well as preventing arranged marriages from falling through if the parties involved decided they didn’t like the look of each other. It’s profoundly sexist and exploitative, and even if it weren’t completely non-applicable to us, I’m afraid that particular horse bolted a long time ago.”

Lyn goggled at James.

Her father chuckled and said “Welcome to my life, lass.”

Hathaway gave him a saucy little smile and said to Lyn “Tea or coffee?”

 

Lewis woke the next morning with a plan. He knew that Hathaway was likely to tie himself in knots of self-doubt so Lewis had set himself the task of ensuring that James would spend most of the morning drunk on oxytocin. To this end he had a bottle of orange juice and champagne chilling in the fridge, and the moment James stirred in the morning, Lewis slipped out of bed to retrieve it. Sid had arrived outside the kitchen door and was looking hopeful, but Lewis had no time for felids this morning and pushed the cat outside with a conciliatory pouch of Fancy Turkey Feast before heading back to the bedroom armed with a perfectly chilled bottle and a couple of glasses. Back in the bedroom he pulled out a bottle of massage oil and then resettled himself on the pillows. James was still asleep and Lewis watched his eyelids twitching in his pale face. His smooth, untroubled visage was finally beginning to show tiny lines and wrinkles of age around the eyes and Lewis reflected that as much as he couldn’t help thinking of James as a young man, he was no longer the boy who’d once asked for Lewis to be his governor. Then his eyes fluttered and James woke up smiling the moment he saw Robbie staring at him.

“A man could get his head turned, being on the receiving end of a look like that,” James said.

“I reckon the man is safe given that the person doing the looking’s about to marry him.”

Hathaway’s smile grew even wider at that.

Lewis offered him a glass of the champagne cocktail and Hathaway’s eyes widened at being offered alcohol for breakfast, but he took the glass and sipped it and then handed it back to Robbie. Once the glass was safely back on the bedside table Lewis took the opportunity to plunder James’s mouth and they both luxuriated in the heady endorphins from kissing and touching. After a while Robbie stopped and looked at James. James’s eyes were wide open and adoration and happiness were pouring out of them. As he stroked James’s head Robbie considered how many times over the years he had seen that look on James’s face. How had he not recognised what it was? Or had he deliberately not seen it? Of course, none of it really mattered any more, and perhaps things had worked out for the best this way. But a small part of Lewis wondered if he could have had this for years already. How much angst could have been prevented if Lewis had asked James to buy a house with him years ago?

Robbie’s thought processes were hijacked by James kissing him again and pushing him back into the pillows while reaching for the massage oil.

“No, not this morning.”

James looked confused.

“ _You’re_ going to relax, I’m going to give you a massage.”

James complied, going limp and submissive beneath Robbie and he felt a thrill at seeing this beautiful man stretched out beneath him staring up at him with such trust and love.

Robbie poured oil onto his chest and began to smooth it into his skin and muscles. “Close your eyes, love, you just have to relax.”

“’Kay,” said James shutting his eyes and sighing happily. But scant minutes later his eyes popped open again and James gazed entranced at Robbie. Robbie realised that James was deeply relaxed, and resigned himself to being stared at like an object of worship.

His intention had been for James to be distracted and not catch a sudden case of the existential flu as it were. It seemed that he had achieved what he set out to do.

“Turn over,” he instructed.

“No,” said James.

“No?”

James stroked his cheek. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Course you do, don’t call you Clever Clogs for nothing.”

James chuckled quietly, “And I’m fine. Better than fine really. C’mere.”

They were both hard and when it came to making love in any way, they both preferred being able to look into each other’s faces, so Robbie bent forward and let James cradle his face in his hands and kiss him again and again.

“Love you,” James breathed.

Robbie began to explore the body beneath him with his fingers and tongue, occasionally adding oil for extra slide, or champagne for extra intoxication. By the time he had reached the juncture of James’s hip and leg and was probing the smooth skin of his groin with his tongue, James was clutching the sheets and crying with pleasure, “Please Robbie, please, please please.”

Realising that neither of them was going to last much longer Robbie reluctantly returned to the top of the bed and joined James again in a deluge of kisses. James was reaching between them and sobbed when he had their cocks lined up together. Robbie couldn’t restrain himself from thrusting against James and wrapped his hand around James’s so that they could work themselves together. Robbie’s breath was coming in harsh, ragged gasps and James was babbling incoherently, low and melodious, “Love... Robbie... please... love.”

When they came Robbie wasn’t sure if his life had ended or he’d had a stroke; he sank into a coma with his arms wrapped around James as tightly as he could get them. Minutes passed, or hours, his only awareness being his heartbeat, and the answering echo of James’s heart under his head. After a while he was aware of his head being stroked gently and a kiss being placed on each of his eyelids.

“Robbie?”

He raised his head noting it required the same sort of strength as conquering Everest.

More kisses were pressed to his face.

“Shower. Taxi will be here in an hour. Long day ahead of us.”

Lewis smiled and opened his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Six Dinner Sid_ is real book written by Inga Moore. The adults in this story would probably all be too old to remember it from their own childhoods, but Lyn would probably have read it to her own child.
> 
> This chapter was written under the influence of Jeremy Soule's _The Northerner Diaries_. Try this for a taster: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l81UYCiA7-M


	7. Chapter 7

They arrived at the Registry Office building looking flushed and grinning at each other. Lyn and Laura were waiting for them, whispering together and when they met up Laura tucked her arm under James’s and Lyn gave her father a disgusted look.

“You look like you guys literally spent the whole morning shagging.”

Robbie forbore commenting.

“Oh good God, is that a hickey? Dad, ugh, no-one wants to know when their father has had sex. Like ever. Eww.”

Robbie shrugged and James looked mortified. Laura patted James on the back and said, “Come along, boys. Even if you have to be disgraceful in public spaces, you can at least be legal while you’re at it.” James sagged against her gratefully and she led the group inside. 

Lyn kept looking at her phone and when Robbie frowned quizzically at her she gave him a beaming smile.

“What?” he said.

Lyn was effervescent with excitement. “Surprise for you!” she crowed. She turned back to the entrance and two figures walked through the door. Robbie gaped when he recognised one of the men there; a blonder, younger version of himself.

“Mark?”

“Da,” his son nervously took a step towards him.

“Oh lad,” Robbie was unable to say anything coherent so he did the one thing he could and put his arms around his son, “Mark.”

When they let each other go, both men had wet faces and Lyn threw her arms around both of them and kissed them.

Mark stood back and gestured to the Japanese man standing behind him, and took his hand drawing him forward.

“Dad, this is my husband Natsuo.”

“Husband?” Robbie murmured. He offered his hand to him, “I’m very pleased to meet you, Natsuo. I am glad my son has someone.”

Mark looked as if a weight had been lifted off him. “We met in Australia and we fell in love.”

Robbie smiled, “I know how that goes.”

“Dad, I thought you wouldn’t understand. I’m sorry. It was only when I got your email that I realised I had got you all wrong, big time.”

“Oh my boy, I would never have judged you!”

“I know,” said Mark. “Lyn gave me a right bollocking when I rang her. I guess I was still a kid really when I last saw you and then mum died and I invented a reason for – well, for not keeping in touch with you.”

“Boys,” Laura interrupted them, “we need to go in now.”

The official ceremony was short and to the point. Lyn sobbed, Laura grinned and James would have probably run away or passed out were it not for Robbie holding his hand firmly and fixing his shrewd eyes on his all the way through. A few short minutes later they emerged into the sunshine from the building in a mess of emotions and unspoken questions. Robbie kept an iron-grip on James’s hand sensing that his brand new husband was overwhelmed by the presence of more Lewises than he’d known existed. To be fair it was more Lewises than Robbie knew existed either. He kept staring at Mark and Natsuo and pondering the changes that the years had brought about. It made him want to howl that his own son could have spent all these years thinking that he would be condemned by his father. 

Laura came up behind them in her new role of Chief Peace-keeper and Protector of Hathaway and said, “It’s going to be fine, boys. Breathe, James.”

James breathed.

“Now let’s go and get some nourishing alcohol into you.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said James.

 

The first person that James saw on arrival at the restaurant was Jean Innocent bearing down on him with her trademark powerhouse walk.

“James!” she greeted him happily, “you’re looking good.”

“Thank you,” he answered, suddenly shy and tongue-tied.

“If you’re wondering whether I am surprised by this, the answer is only inasmuch as I was fairly convinced you were both deliberately obtuse and would never realise the obvious.”

James’s eyes widened.

Innocent nodded, remembering the many times the Dynamic Duo had appeared on her carpet for good or bad reasons. “In my mind, you two were together pretty much from the day Lewis put his career on the line for you over that pathetic wife-killer you dangled out of a window.”

James looked at her sceptically.

“How many times have you done that for your sergeant?” Innocent inquired.

“Maybe my sergeant is a good deal smarter than I ever was, and therefore has never needed any rescuing,” James answered.

“Touché,” said Innocent raising her glass. “Nevertheless, that doesn’t affect my point: Robbie thought the world of you right from the beginning.”

James blushed and simultaneously cursed himself for reacting like a teenager.

“Anyway,” Jean continued, “I’m really pleased for you both. Be happy, James.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. I already am.”

“Under the circumstances, James, I think you can call me Jean,”

“Yes, Ma’am, thank you. Jean,”

Lyn went over to her husband to gather their son into her arms and brought him over to Robbie and James. “There’s someone I need you to meet.”

The little boy nodded at her with wide trusting eyes.

“You know why we came to Oxford?”

“Grandad is getting married.”

“Yes, that’s right. Which means that now Grandad has a husband.”

“So now I have two?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

The boy gave this matter some thought and guessed: “So now I get two Grandad presents at Christmas?”

“Ah, that may have been an angle we did not give due consideration,” the tall man standing next to his Grandad said. 

“So, this is your Grandpa Jim,” said Robbie with a broad grin and a wicked glint in his eyes. He could see James cycling though several lines of thought in his brain at those words.

“James,” said James. “Grandpa James. And yes, there will be two presents at Christmas.”

“Yay! So Grandpa James is the young one and Grandad is the -”

“Yes, that’s about it.” said his mother hastily. James’s mouth had turned up at the corners and he gave Robbie a grin.

“Oy, stow it,” said Robbie without any heat behind the words.

“My lips are sealed,” said James. The ‘Sir’ was unspoken, but both of them could hear it clearly.

After that it was a matter of enduring the hugs and well wishes of their small group of family and friends: Laura, Innocent, Lizzie, Lyn, Mark and the rest of the guys in the band in between courses and plenty of wine.

“I think I hate wedding parties too,” muttered James a little while later.

“Of course you do,” said his husband wearily.

“When we celebrate our anniversary there will be more booze and fewer people,” said James slurring only slightly.

“Oh, is that a fact?” said Robbie. 

James nodded vehemently.

“I think there may have been enough booze already,” 

James shook his head.

“Come along lad, I think it’s time we went home.” 

James was nodding again.

“M’going to say goodnight to Laura,” James announced, before setting off around the room hugging everybody and then smooching Laura and cuddling her in his arms while he twirled them around.

Robbie found himself chuckling as he watched the impromptu waltz by his tipsy husband and his amused ex. If you didn’t know better, you would almost think that you were witnessing a scene of great tenderness and romance. If you did know better you knew you were watching a temporarily uninhibited Hathaway expressing his gratitude and love for a friend who had shown them both nothing but kindness.

Laura returned James to Robbie some minutes later, James was beaming and Laura gave him a grin. Robbie hugged her, momentarily hyper aware of a woman’s body pressed against his own for the first time in months.

“Thanks, lass,” he whispered kissing her cheek.

Laura patted his cheek, “Always, Robbie.”

He was aware of his son’s eyes on them but he suddenly didn’t have the emotional energy to explain anything and hoped that other people would fill him in.

“Okay,” he said, “we’re heading out.”

James tucked his arm around his husband’s waist, his expression suddenly morphing into his patented secret smile just for Robbie.

“Right,” said Robbie. “Home, James.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie and James finally get their honeymoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So writing domestic fluff turned out to be so much harder than I anticipated, mostly because very little happens plot-wise and I didn't want to resort to describing grocery shopping and dinners in restaurants as they are awful clichés. I hope I've done our boys justice and given them their happy ending.
> 
> Anyway, I think I still have a timestamp or two in this series, but they will come later.  
> In the mean time, I have a couple of new stories in mind, of the less fluffy variety.

Eight weeks later, Robbie was sitting at an outdoor bodega near the _Museu de l’Eròtica de Barcelona_ , decanter of wine on the table and a platter of battered Zucchini flowers, cheeses, cold cuts, and red onion rings between himself and his over-stimulated but radiant Hathaway, who had accumulated a collection of pamphlets and books that detailed points of interest around the city. The normal real-life Lewis would not have regarded flowers as food, nor did he feel a pressing need to view decades-old collections of dildos and whips in the building next door – not so much erotic, he felt, than a monument to humanity’s desperate need to have it off at every opportunity. James had promised him that they were not going in there and were instead heading to _Museu Marítim_ that afternoon after refuelling. 

Lewis, having been married once before, understood the value of allowing one’s spouse to pursue the things they wanted when they were on the holiday of their dreams. He acknowledged that “allowed” was perhaps an ill-chosen word, James was not his pet to be patronised. On the other hand, Robbie was content to soak up the late-summer Spanish sun and bask in the company of a spouse who radiated joy with the excitement of discovering and investigating historical sites long dreamed about. This holiday was for James. Robbie didn’t need anything more than he already had: sunny skies, a plentiful supply of good wine, constant commentary on history and trivia, and the strong arms of his husband at night. He’d been led through glowing grottoes and moody, marvellous hanging houses, a couple of monasteries and towering, weird cathedrals and strolls along grand boulevards with his husband’s arm at his back and friendly smiles on the faces of passers-by. By day his skin had turned darker under the constant sun and by night his muscles were alternately soothed and caressed with oils and care by James. Once a long time ago Robbie had heard a poem, 

“And the sunlight clasps the earth;  
And the moonbeams kiss the sea”. 

Shelley. The rest of the poem no longer applied to Robbie’s life:

“What are all these kissings worth,  
If thou kiss not me?”

Robbie had no answer to that question. Nowadays he _had_ all the kissings, thank you very much. He’d moved past the point of being surprised that James had chosen him. His days were marked by little smiles and mini discourses; and at night there was hot breath against his neck and hands stroking his chest.

Robbie was prepared to be politely bored, but instead he was both surprised and sheepish to discover that he thoroughly enjoyed the Maritime Museum and by the surreptitious little sideways glances from James, he judged James had deliberately picked this one to appeal to Robbie. He slipped his fingers through James’s and they strolled on together like that, occasionally getting smiles and glances from other visitors. Robbie was enjoying the novelty of public touching. They rarely did it back home in Oxford outside of their own place – it wouldn’t be appropriate at work and their friends certainly didn’t need a sideshow either. Intimacy was mostly confined to the privacy of their home and they were both okay with that. Now Robbie found his inner caveman resurfacing with glee at his current ability to publicly stake his claim to James, magnificent as he was now, all summer-bronzed skin and sun-bleached white-gold hair. James couldn’t possibly be aware of everything going through Robbie’s hind-brain, but occasional amused grins led Robbie to think that James probably had an inkling. As they strolled back to their hotel in the late afternoon golden glow, James slowed their pace so that he could put his arm around Robbie and walk hip to hip. Once back inside the ornate tiled entrance of their building James ramped up the amorous touching, the quick flick of his eyes betraying that this was a deliberate tease. Robbie was spooned in the lift until the people sharing it got out. Then Robbie got pushed against the back wall and his mouth was devoured until the lift doors opened on their floor and another group of tourists were treated to a dishevelled and flushed pair of guilty grins. Someone in the group chuckled and the girl in the front of the group giggled at them.

Too tired from the day’s tour to head back out to their regular haunt at one of the local bars, they decided on nightcaps in the hotel bar and sat on the outside balcony nursing a pint (Robbie) and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc (James) while the stars came out and evening sea breezes blew the heat of day away. James leaned his head against Robbie’s shoulder, his hand finding his husband’s.

“This has been the best bit,” he murmured, “watching the stars and the sea every day. You?”

Robbie hummed thoughtfully, “Every time I open my eyes and see you,”

James rolled his eyes and they both snickered at the cheesy line that had been delivered somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but nevertheless it earned Robbie a gentle kiss and a sappy look. Robbie watched as James gazed upwards at the stars happily, the lad was as at peace as he’d ever seen him. It was such a contrast from their first stop of their journey at Santiago de Compostela Cathedral. 

On that day James had been thrumming with nervous anticipation: on his first time out here a few years before as a pilgrim, he had chosen to give up on other possible roads in life and had resigned himself to his career as a copper, reconciled himself to life as a single man and then returned to England precipitously leaving his pilgrimage unfinished. When he finally stood in the Cathedral all these years later, while Robbie waited silently and respectfully at the back, James had knelt before the ornate altar for a long time staring at the golden tabernacle surrounded by magnificent glass windows, elaborate golden pillars and a host of gilded statues, and felt nothing. Prayers fell silent on his lips and eventually he rose, genuflected and made his way out into the daylight. Robbie had let him be for a while until James had chosen to talk again. “I don’t know what I believe any more,” he said sounding slightly confused. Robbie had touched his shoulder in sympathy. “The strange thing is, I thought I would feel angry or sad, but I don’t. It’s as if it’s all drained away.” Robbie had decided that the start of one’s honeymoon would be a monumentally bad place to initiate a conversation on the merits of theodicy, Church doctrine and dogma; and so he patted James on the back kindly and said, “Buy you a pint?”

Now, in the last of their days in Spain it seemed to Robbie that James had finally shaken off the residual ghosts that had stalked his conscience for years. There had been no sign of the guilt that had once crushed his bonnie lad’s spirit. In fact, James had been downright flirty all evening ever since he’d noticed Robbie’s earlier not-so-subtle public attempts to exhibit his claim on his husband. He kept smiling to himself as he lounged, head cast back against the sofa so that he could blink lazily at the night skies, wriggling slightly against the cushions. As their drinks emptied Robbie became aware that James was fidgety in spite of his relaxed demeanour. When he drained his pint Robbie gestured to James’s wine glass in the universal sign language for, “Same again?” James shook his head and wriggled again and Robbie’s copper brain engaged automatically wondering what was making him uncomfortable.

He moved closer to James and said, “You alright?”

James cocked his head at Robbie and gave him his curious face.

“You’re all twitchy suddenly,”

James’s eyes widened slightly and he gave Robbie an enigmatic smile, leaned closer as if he were about to speak and then shook his head.

“Um,” said James.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that, love,” said Robbie.

James’s smile broadened further, then he seemed to win an internal debate with himself and inclined his head so that he could whisper into Robbie’s ear.

“I want you tonight, so I’ve been wearing a plug.”

Robbie felt the earth move under him.

“Robbie, breathe,” James whispered, amusement brimming in his tone. He was met by a wide-eyed stare from his momentarily incapacitated husband.

“Really?” was all Robbie could manage.

James nodded.

Robbie stood and held his hand out to James and led him back upstairs to their room.

Penetrative sex was one thing that they hadn’t tried yet beyond playing around with a few fingers. Google had assured Robbie that this was acceptable and not unheard of between a same-sex male couple. It had been a compilation of Robbie’s adjusting to the idea of being in a relationship with a man, James’s lack of experience of being with anybody and the preparation needed that made it less likely when one or both of them had to get to work, or was home after a long day at work when other options were easier and less daunting. The one thing that terrified Robbie was hurting James; there were still some things from James’s past that they’d never discussed. Robbie had no intention of pushing for information on past traumas, but he never wanted their love-making to remind James of something that he wanted to keep buried in the past. Robbie’s heart was in his throat when they closed their room door behind them and James pulled him over to the bed and kissed him. Robbie marvelled that James showed no nerves at all, there was only desire in his face as he pulled off Robbie’s shirt and unbuckled his belt. A second later Robbie began to help, stripping James’s Henley shirt from him and then getting lost stroking the skin on his throat.

“My eyes,” said James cheekily, “are up here.”

“Don’t dispute that,” said Robbie before sucking his neck over his jugular until he had made James whine.

James pushed him back and gasped, “Back in a minute,” and disappeared into the bathroom. In a daze Robbie fumbled in his belongings for the bottle of lube and the unopened packet of condoms and placed them next to the bed before removing the rest of his clothes. James reappeared naked and beautiful and Robbie held out his hand to him and pulled him down onto the bed, kissing his face until he fell back against the pillows. He pulled his legs up and locked his eyes on Robbie’s. Robbie grabbed the lube and gently began to stroke his entrance with one finger and then two, bending forward every few minutes to kiss James gently and gauge his comfort. More lube and another finger was followed by another probing kiss. James had gone mute until Robbie crooked his fingers feeling for his prostate and then stroking it slowly and firmly. Instantly James went from passive to writhing and gasping. Robbie kept up the stroking while calming him with more deep kisses and then kissing and sucking his way down James’s torso until he nuzzled the base of his cock and then sucked it into his mouth, tonguing the slit at the head and then sucking it in deeper. Above him James was sobbing in delirious pleasure until he whispered raggedly, “I’m not going to last much longer if you keep that up. I’m ready Robbie.”

Robbie reached for a condom and rolled it on and then returned to James and kissed him. “I expect you to stop me if anything feels wrong, okay love?”

James nodded and widened his legs for Robbie to fit between them and for a moment their eyes were locked in an exchange of utter trust and love. Then Robbie pushed inside James and had to force himself to stop and wait, watching James’s face as expressions of initial discomfort and then calm passed over it. 

“Breathe, love. We take this as slowly as we need to.”

James breathed shakily, willing himself to relax his muscles. Robbie continued to stroke his hair and his face while he waited, James searched Robbie’s eyes and found only patience and love there. Then the feeling of almost unbearable fullness subsided and was replaced by a new set of good sensations. He nodded and whispered, “Yes, it’s okay now.” Robbie kissed his cheek and began to thrust slowly and increasingly deeply, revelling in the tight, smooth heat around him and the moans of pleasure from James. He knew when he’d hit James’s prostate again when James gasped and his eyes rolled upwards under fluttering lids. His thrusts began to speed up and James began to shudder on the brink of his orgasm so Robbie tried to slow and press in deeper. He pressed his face into James’s cheek and whispered words of love to him until James cried out and Robbie felt him tighten around his cock while he spilled hot, wet semen between them. Robbie lasted only a few seconds longer before he too came, emptying himself deep inside James. They lay still for a few seconds, stunned by the intensity of their pleasure. Robbie lay where he was for a few minutes stroking James’s face and kissing his throat while his heartbeat returned to normal. Then he rolled off the bed to discard the condom and grab a cloth from the bathroom. He carefully wiped James as clean as he could and held a bottle of water to his lips and instructed: “Drink, pet.”

James complied and Robbie dumped the cloth and returned to bed, lying on his back exhausted and sated. James immediately snuggled into his side, burying his face in Robbie’s neck. “You okay, love?” Robbie asked.

“Mm,” said James.

Robbie stroked the back of his husband’s head feeling unconsciousness creep over him.

“Love you, pet” he said just as he drifted off.

“Mmf,” said James.

On their way to breakfast the next morning, Robbie noticed that James’s gait was a little strange. Then he saw James easing himself carefully into his seat at the table and was immediately worried.

“Oh God, James, lad, did I hurt you?”

“What?” James looked startled, “No.” Then he chuckled and slid over to Robbie, gave him a lascivious grin and said in a low tone, “I’m just a bit stiff. I’m not used to having m’ knees around my ears.”

Robbie blushed.

“Also,” James continued _sotto voce_ , “I can still feel you inside me.”

Robbie’s face was now a furnace, and he wasn’t helped along by the knowledge that his husband was purring with visible contentedness in a crowded room while he happily munched on his _pan con tomate_ and then switched to a hearty pile of _churros_ and hot chocolate. It wasn’t fair. How was Robbie the one feeling like a shy virgin teen?

“So,” Robbie poured himself some coffee from the carafe on the table, “Last day. Ready to go home?”

James sighed. “I spose. I miss Sid. And my guitar. But once a year we have to go somewhere where we can watch stars at night.”

“Done,” said Robbie.

James slid his hand over to Robbie’s and for a while they sat hand in hand while Robbie sipped his coffee and James watched him with a daft smile on his face.

“So what are we doing today, love?”

“I’ve organised a picnic basket and a bottle of wine. Two bottles of wine. We’re heading off to Ciutadella Park. We’ll just relax and stroll around. Rent a boat if you fancy a row.”

“Sounds perfect,” Robbie murmured, “Ready to head out?”

“Whither thou goest, I will go,” James answered.

They looked at each other and started chuckling. James pulled Robbie out of his seat and slung his arm around his waist. Together they headed out into the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, where do all of you hang out when it comes to doing things like Challenges and prompts? I'd love to join.


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